


So Close

by LostinFic



Category: Broadchurch, Secret Diary of a Call Girl (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Neighbors, F/M, Fluff, New Year's Eve
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-01
Updated: 2017-01-01
Packaged: 2018-09-14 00:19:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,249
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9148486
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LostinFic/pseuds/LostinFic
Summary: In which they learn that sometimes the person you need is closer than you thought





	

**Author's Note:**

> Trope: Neighbours AU
> 
> Thank you to Fadewithfury for her support <3

 

He’s there again. For the last week or so, Hannah has seen the same man hanging around her building. Today he’s following her. She hikes her purse over her shoulder and quickens her step. As her building comes into view, she searches for her key, but it’s difficult with a bag of take-out and a pile of scripts in her arms. She glances back at him, he’s talking— or pretending to—on the phone. When she stops in front of the doors, he looks at her and walks towards her. Heart pounding, Hannah hurries to unlock the door but drops her keys. The man is only a few steps away, and definitely approaching her.

“Leave me alone.”

“Sorry?”

“I know what you’re doing, you creep.”

“What?”

“Stop following me. Go away or I’m calling the police.”

“I live here. And I’m the police.”

He flashes his badge: DI Alec Hardy.

“Doesn’t mean you’re not a creep,” she mumbles.

He nearly cracks a smile.

“Sorry I scared you. You going in or not?” 

“I dropped my key.”

She dumps her things in his arms and sits on her haunches to look through the slushy snow.

“I have mine, you know.”

She stands back up, holding the key with a victorious smile. She unlocks the door and opens it for him.

 

“You stalking me?” he jokes as she follows him up the stairs to the third floor.

She’s mortified to realize he lives in the flat across from hers-- great she’s just insulted her new neighbour. That place had been empty for so long, she assumed the landlord had turned it into a storage space or something. 

“You know a man was killed in there, right?” she says.

“How do you think I can afford this place?”

“Is that what coppers do? Wait for someone to get killed and move in at a discounted price?” 

He does crack a smile this time. "See you around.”

 

In retrospect, Hannah is glad she accused him of stalking her. Rather than being embarrassed whenever she meets him in the hall or the lobby, it becomes their joke. And that’s how they get to know each other.

“You following me to my sister’s?” he asks as they walk down the stairs. “I’ll pay you to come. Maybe she’ll stop trying to set me up with her friends.”

“Only if you follow me to my mum’s birthday next weekend.”

 

Admittedly, living across from a copper makes her job riskier. But she isn’t doing much of that anymore. She kept a few regular clients, the nicest ones. She’s got other projects now, namely a web series based on her books. This time around, it’s not a big Hollywood producer who wants to change everything, but an indie company with brilliant ideas.

She’s with Hardy when she receives a letter from the British Film commission. He’s sifting through his mail and jumps when she shrieks.

“We got it! We got the grant!”

She’s so happy, she hugs him, and he stammers congratulations.

The following week, he finds a newspaper in front of his door. Its front page announces Hardy’s team success at bringing down crime in the area. Hannah scribbled a “congratulation” and a smiley face on it. 

He keeps it in the top drawer of his desk.

 

Sometimes, they don’t joke at all. When it’s late and they’ve worked all day. They exchange a weary smile and know they feel the same about this shitty world. That’s when she starts inviting him over for a cup of tea. And they drink in silence, in her kitchen. A balm for sorrows. 

He looks at her through the dancing steam of his cup. Funny, that a stranger should bring him such comfort. 

She smiles at him over the rim of her mug. 

Nothing is said. Nothing needs to be said.

 

After that, their meetings become less coincidental.

Sort of.

At the sound of footsteps in the hall, he looks through his door’s peephole. A delivery man knocks on Hannah’s door. Hardy gave the wrong flat number on purpose and he’s feeling very stupid about it. And he will feel even stupider in a moment if she’s not home, and he’s stuck with all that food.

The delivery guy knocks again, and this time her door opens. Hardy goes out to intercept before creating too much confusion. Hannah warily eyes the mountain of brown bags he pays for.

“Never order on an empty stomach,” he says, hoping it sounds casual rather than like the practiced line it is. “Would you like to eat? With me.”

“Sure.”

They find out they watch the same show on Thursday nights. So it’s a thing now: take-out and  _ Orphan Black _ . And Hannah on his couch.

And it continues into the summer even if the series has ended.  Take-out and the sunset from his balcony. And Hannah on his folding chair.

 

He tries not to talk about her to other people. He tells himself that he’s just never been one to chat with coworkers. Truth is, some silly part of him worries it will break the spell. As if saying her name out loud would make her disappear.

Yet some days it feels like people are conspiring to remind him of her. And he finds himself saying “my neighbour Hannah” in a way that makes the sides of his mouth curl up a bit somehow.

Hannah talks about him too, except she doesn’t realize it until a friend asks: “Do you have more than one neighbour or do you just talk a lot about the same one?”

But they are just neighbours: she picks up his mail when he’s out of town and he waters the poor excuse for a plant she has. They share a hall and greetings. She lets the cable guy in when he’s at work during the day; He makes sure she wakes up when she has an early appointment.

Yet, somewhere along the way, on a warm autumn day, “my neighbour” turns into “my friend” because they can’t deny anymore they’re part of each other’s life. And if they had seen each other at that moment, when they both said it, then maybe they would have understood sooner.

That night, he tells her about Sandbrook and Broadchurch.

That night, she tells him about Ben and her job.

"Things fall apart."

That night, they hold hands in silence.

 

December rolls around and with it an armada of holiday stuff. Hardy’s mood withers. From his flat, he can hear the bloody Chipmunk song playing on  _ her _ sound system. Next thing he knows, he’s crossing the hall and pounding on her door.

“Will you turn that down?”

She opens the door and appears with glittery antlers on her head.

“All right, calm down, Mr. Grinch.”

“I’m not— I’m not a Grinch.”

“Then prove it.”

He follows her inside the flat. Shopping bags cover the living room floor. Out of one, she pulls a tinsel garland.

“You’re tall. You can put this up here.”

He begrudgingly helps her decorate the room and even the hall they share. By the end of it, his shirt is covered with glitter. She laughs at him until he slouches down on her couch thus scattering glitter on the cream leather. She tries to brush it away, but gives up and sits next to him. Her cheery mood seems to have waned. She stares in the middle distance and a crease forms on her forehead. Hardy jiggles the bells on her antlers, and she smiles weakly.

“Can you help me wrap presents? I’m rubbish.”

Her smiles grows a bit more.

He brings over a plastic bag from John Lewis and a boxed laptop. Hannah whistles.

“For my daughter… I’m overcompensating.”

“Don’t worry. Me too.” She points at another stack of shopping bags from posh stores. “Not the best daughter or sister, me. How does that saying goes again? Tis the season to feel guilty?”

She bumps him with her shoulder, and he chuckles.

“Are the decorations overcompensating too?”

“Maybe. I’m trying to summon the spirit of Christmas.”

As they cut wrapping paper and measure lengths of ribbon, they talk about their plans for the holidays. He’ll be in Glasgow with his family. But it’s just not the same since the divorce. She’ll stay in London and already dreads her mother’s passive-aggressive remarks.

“They don’t know what I do. They have no idea how successful I am.”

“Why don’t you just tell them?”

Hannah shrugs.

 

On the morning before he leaves for Glasgow, she makes sure to see him. It’s unnecessary, she has already wished him a happy Christmas. Yet they both stand there, in the hall, Hannah in her pajama, Hardy with his suitcase. Barely a foot apart. They’re probably saying things. Mostly she wants a hug. She gets a pat on the shoulder.

 

It all goes better than expected.

Being with people that have known him since childhood, makes Hardy feel more like himself. Daisy loves her gift but loves his visit more. And he finds that it doesn’t hurt so much to see Tess anymore. He even drops by Broadchurch to visit Ellie.

He spares a thought (or a dozen) for Hannah, wondering how it’s going with her family.

Hannah’s fed up. Rather than suffer the questions and snide comments about her lack of job/future/husband, she tells the truth to her family— well, most of it— just to shut them up. They’re not as surprised as she’d anticipated.

 

On the day he comes back from Glasgow, he makes sure to see her. To pick up his mail, or so he says. There’s a steaming cup of tea waiting from him.

“You look well,” he says.

“I am.”

He regrets not buying her a gift when he had the chance.

 

On New Year’s Eve, she knocks at his door.

“Do you have hot water?”

“Erm, yeah, I think so.”

“Good. Can I use your shower?”

It’s odd, having her in his shower. He doesn’t know what to do with himself. He tries not to listen, not that there’s anything special to hear, but still. And suddenly he thinks: “What if I asked her out tonight?”

When she comes out of the bathroom, she’s wearing a form-fitting red dress. “I’ve got this party,” she explains.

Right. No asking her out then.

 

Hannah crosses back to her flat to fix her hair and makeup. Applying a heavy line of kohl reminds her of dressing up as Belle. The party is hosted by her former madam after all.

On her way out, she pauses by Hardy’s door. Would he come with her? A cop at a prostitute party. Well, he wouldn’t be the first. But Hardy’s not like them. She shakes her head and moves on, she’s got a black cab waiting.

 

Hardy listens to her footsteps retreat. It’s not the first time he’s alone on December 31 st , but it’s the first time that he doesn’t feel like staying alone inside. He turns on the television to some New Year’s Eve special, but he can’t stay seated. People outside are singing and shouting. Somehow, he’s not that annoyed.

 

She hates all her friends. She likes them individually, but all gathered in the same room with drugs and alcohol, not so much. Or maybe she’s changed. She doesn’t fit in. She’s talking with Charlotte when she sees fucking Harry Keagan at the other end of the room.  _ Christ _ .

 

Hardy needs someone, feels ready for more, to move on. Who knows what the New Year might bring? He’s never been one for one-night stands, and he’s not going to start at 43, but he wants some kind of connection. He puts on his coat before thinking too much about it.

 

She’s never going to find a taxi at this time, but that won’t stop her from leaving the party. Hannah puts on her coat and steps out into the December night.

 

It’s not too cold. He has no idea where to go, he just follows the crowd. There will be fireworks at the London Eye soon.

 

Hannah wanders down the streets towards the Thames. She thinks of the last time she found herself at night on the Southbank, wrapped in yellow, although back then it was a dress rather than a coat. There’s already a big crowd gathered around Waterloo Bridge. Maybe she’ll be able to see the fireworks.

 

Big Ben chimes— the first of twelve— and a firework bursts in the dark sky. 

Second, third chime: blue then green sparkles. He looks at the people around him, at their smiling faces. 

A fourth chime: purple in the sky. 

Five:  And in the crowd, he recognizes a face. 

Sixth chime: Hannah smiles at him.  Oh, it makes so much sense. All this time. So close. 

Seven: She walks towards him. 

Eight: He walks faster. 

Nine: He was right under her nose. All this time. 

Ten: She’s running now. 

Eleven: They stand an inch apart. The fog on their breath mingle. Their eyes meet.

Twelve: The crowd cheers. Lights bloom in the sky. Still they look only at each other.

“Are you stalking me?” she asks.

“I didn’t know I was looking for you.” 

“Yeah.” She grabs the lapels of his jacket and bites her bottom lip. “Are you going to kiss me or do I have to do all the work?”

“I’m going to kiss you.” 

“Good.”

He slips a hand through her hair and presses his lips to hers.

**Author's Note:**

> Happy New Year!


End file.
